


The Hand of Fate

by blondsak



Series: Irondad Bingo Fics [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Signs (2002), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Other: See Story Notes, Peter Parker is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-30 00:21:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20805422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blondsak/pseuds/blondsak
Summary: From behind him, Tony hears Steve walk out into the expanse. “Tony, is this a--”“Yeah,” Tony interrupts, the word nothing but a croak. “It’s a damn crop circle, alright.”“I don’t think God did it,” Peter pipes up, and Tony turns around to see him holding Mo in his arms, marveling as always that the teen’s slight frame is still able to carry his five year-old sister with ease.Mo unwraps her skinny arms from around her brother’s neck, pulling away just enough to look at him with the kind of wide-eyed curiosity only a small child can possess. “So who was it, Petey?”Peter gives her a soft, adoring smile. “I think it’s a sign from Mom.”...aka my irondad AU ofSigns(2002).(written for irondad bingo. trope: TV/Movie AU.)





	The Hand of Fate

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ!! THE NOTES ARE ACTUALLY VERY IMPORTANT THIS TIME!!
> 
> Thing the first-- a massive thank you to [seekrest](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekrest/pseuds/seekrest) for editing this monster one-shot for me, and for suggesting the title. Also, shout-out to [frostysunflowers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostysunflowers/pseuds/frostysunflowers) who adores this movie probably more than I do. I hope you like it, friend!
> 
> Thing the second-- today is my birthday! I also survived some fairly gnarly surgery yesterday, so suffice to say I’m in a pretty damn grateful mood all-around (the freakin’ awesome painkillers I’m on _might_ have something to do with that, I suspect-- but who’s to say for sure). Anyway-- I’m posting this as a gift to myself. Hopefully you all enjoy it too!
> 
> Thing the third-- this fic does contain religious elements, specifically Christian elements. I am personally agnostic (at best)-- however I kept the Christian theme from the film intact for a few reasons. First-- it’s a BIG theme in the movie, haha. And second-- I think the particular religion used in the film is ultimately merely a vehicle for the main character gaining back _any_ semblance of hope and optimism in his life. So while you won’t be seeing any sermons or even one mention of Jesus here-- please be aware those elements exist and are ultimately seen in a favorable light.
> 
> Thing the fourth-- this story does contain the violent death of a family pet. It’s also a scene in the film, and a build-up to the main plot. I kept it here both because I think it’s a key emotional scene and again, it helps inform the larger plot. But if that’s not for you-- please click away and know you have my complete understanding <3
> 
> And not even _close_ to least of all-- to all of my readers: thank you for reading and for always being so generous with your kudos and comments!! Your enthusiasm for my writing is a daily gift to me and the reason I keep creating more irondad content, so again-- thank you <3 <3 <3

**Bucks County, Pennsylvania - August 2002.**

Day One

_ Tony steps out of the station wagon, his boots grinding against the gravel of the country road. He’s still in his barn overalls, having wasted no time from the moment he hung up the phone-- staying only long enough to have a hushed conversation with Steve as the children played Uno and giggled together in the next room. _

_ The sun has already set past the horizon, allowing the blue and red flashing lights of the various police cars to light up the trees lining the road. Tony looks around, spots a group of officers standing around a green truck that has swerved off the road into a grouping of trees, not a hundred feet down from where he parked.  _

_ Just then one of the officers steps away and Tony takes a deep breath as the man walks up to him. _

_ Rhodey looks deeply shaken, the pain in his eyes evident. Tony doesn’t bother to greet him, just gets right down to it. _

_ “Where is she?” _

_ Rhodey rubs at his chin-- the wariness of the gesture causing alarm bells to ring in Tony’s mind.  _

_ “Tones. What do you already know?” _

_ Tony sidesteps the question, having only one thing on his mind-- only one person.  _

_ “Where’s my wife, Rhodey? Where’s Pepper?” _

* * *

Tony goes from asleep to awake in a split second. The early morning light is still creeping over the horizon, casting a subdued dark gray over his bedroom. Despite the supposed tranquility, he was certain he’d heard something. 

He blinks a few times, instinctively listening for any telltale sounds of his children moving about. From throughout the house he can hear the old AC system fighting to turn on, the hum of the refrigerator downstairs, the occasional bird chirping. Outside Sandwich lets out a short bark, probably at a squirrel or rabbit.

Tony sighs contentedly. The kids must not be awake yet, which means he has time to get ready for the day in peace. He climbs out of bed, carefully opening his door so as not to wake either child with its familiar creak, before making his way down the hall to the bathroom. Along the way he picks up two mismatched socks - both Peter’s from the looks of it - and one of Mo’s sweaters. Quietly he tosses all three down the laundry chute where they hopefully land in the basement hamper-- assuming Steve didn’t go all Mr. Clean again yesterday and already do the wash cycle.

He’s brushing his teeth in the bathroom when he hears a long, high scream coming from somewhere in the cornfields.

Tony drops his toothbrush in the sink and races to Mo’s bedroom door. The room is messy as always but Tony’s sole focus is on the unmade empty bed. 

_ Shit shit shit-- _

“Mo? Peter?” he calls as he heads for Peter’s bedroom-- finding every corner piled high with books but again, no kid.

_ Shit shit shit-- _

He’s downstairs and throwing on his barn boots in hardly any time, running out the back porch door and racing toward the crop line.

“Mo! Pete!” he yells out, twisting in every direction just as he hears the stomp of Steve’s footfalls coming down the stairs of the upstairs garage guest house. 

“Where are they?” Steve asks, eyes wide and hair askew. He’s wearing nothing but his boxers and a pair of old sneakers, and if Tony wasn’t panicking about his kids’ well-being he’d absolutely make a joke about his baby brother’s get-up, or lack thereof. As it is, the two of them just look around, waiting for an answering cry when--

“Dad!”

“Peter!” Tony cries back as he and Steve both take off in the direction of the scream.

_ “Daddy!” _

“Mo!”

Tony and Steve both frantically push corn stalks out of their paths as they make their way through the field, coming to a stop roughly thirty rows in. 

Tony looks up and down the row and sure enough, about twenty feet down is Mo, wearing one of her beloved Disney princess dresses and her tall purple rain boots. Tony jogs over, Steve right on his heels. He kneels down, looking over his daughter for any sign of injury before bringing his hands to her cheeks.

“Sweetheart, where’s your brother?” he asks her. 

Mo just stares at him for a few moments, looking a bit confused but not at all scared. “Are you in my dream too?”

Tony shakes his head. “Baby, this isn’t a--”

“Dad!” Peter cries out, sounding close by.

Tony stands up in a flash, taking Mo into his arms only to hand her over to Steve before dashing across another ten rows. A large sigh of relief escapes him as he spots Peter standing not even a dozen feet away, staring out into the crops.

Tony walks over to him, putting one hand on his shoulder before using the other to turn Peter’s face toward him. The recently-minted fourteen year-old looks dazed as he peers up at his father, almost as if he took a blow to the head. The idea has Tony immediately running his fingers over the boy’s skull, checking for bumps.

“Are you hurt? Or-- or did you have an asthma attack?”

Peter doesn’t answer at first, before slowly shaking his head back and forth.

“Okay, okay, that’s good kiddo. But then why--”

“Do you think God did it?”

Tony’s brow furrows at Peter’s question. He hears the sounds of Steve traipsing over, before he suddenly stops and takes in a sharp breath, setting Mo down next to Tony. “Holy cow… Tony, are you seeing this?”

Tony ignores him, gaze focused on his son. “Do I think God did what, Pete?”

Peter lifts an arm, taking Tony’s chin in his hand before turning his father’s face to the right. Only then does Tony understand what Steve had been referring to.

_ “Shit.” _

Tony steps forward just a row only to enter a 200-foot wide expanse, every single corn stalk bent low to the ground at a perfect circular angle. None are broken, only carefully bowed, as though they were slowly pushed down by hand. Even in the soft morning light the sight is eerie, as though whoever did this left traces of themselves in a way beyond merely creating the clearing-- a way that couldn’t be seen with the naked eye. 

From behind him, Tony hears Steve walk out into the expanse. “Tony, is this a--”

“Yeah,” Tony interrupts, the word nothing but a croak. “It’s a damn crop circle, alright.”

“I don’t think God did it,” Peter pipes up, and Tony turns around to see him holding Mo in his arms, marveling as always that the teen’s slight frame is still able to carry his five year-old sister with ease. 

Mo unwraps her skinny arms from around her brother’s neck, pulling away just enough to look at him with the kind of wide-eyed curiosity only a small child can possess. “So who was it, Petey?”

Peter gives her a soft, adoring smile. “I think it’s a sign from Mom.”

* * *

“Can I have another glass of water?” Mo asks halfway through dinner.

“You still have half a glass left,” Tony replies. Mo gives him a pleading look, and Tony sighs. “Okay sweetheart. But at least put the rest of that glass in Sandwich’s water dish if you’re not going to drink it, alright?”

“But it tastes funny.”

“Sandwich licks his butt every day, Mo,” Peter says through a mouthful of mashed potatoes. “I don’t think he’ll mind.”

“But he won’t want my water!” Mo says, protesting. “He’s mad at me!”

Tony gets up to grab Mo another glass of water. As he turns on the faucet he says, “What do you mean, he’s mad at you?”

“He keeps whining and he won’t let me pet him!”

Tony frowns-- that doesn’t sound like Sandwich. He turns to where said dog is pacing between the kitchen and the back door, growling at the latter occasionally. Maybe Mo has a point-- the dog does seem a little distressed. He shares a look with Steve, who shrugs.

Tony hands Mo her glass and sits back down, cutting into more of his chicken before addressing Steve. “I spoke with Odin. He says Loki and the Maximoff twins were all working night shifts for him at the Asgard, picking up popcorn and cleaning theater seats ‘til near two in the morning. When I asked if he knew for a fact that Loki wasn’t out after that, he said he was certain  _ beyond a doubt  _ that his son would never harass us and to quit accusing him.”

Tony shoots Steve a skeptical look before going on. “Seems he conveniently forgot the incident with the scarecrow costume last October.”

Steve shakes his head, poking at his green beans. “I know what you’re thinking, Tony, but Odin’s a good man. He wouldn’t lie just to protect his son.”

“You’re just saying that because the old man was your high school baseball coach.”

“No, I’m saying that because Odin is a good man.”

Tony sighs. “Well, in any case, Rhodey’s coming out to take a look tomorrow.”

“Are you ever going to call him Sheriff Rhodes?” Peter asks. “That’s his job title, after all.”

Tony reaches over, ruffles Peter’s hair. Peter takes a swipe at him with his fork, some gravy landing on the table. “Best friend titles trump job titles. Just like parent nicknames trump kid names, squirt.”

Peter rolls his eyes. “My name isn’t  _ squirt _ .”

“You’re right. _ Squirt. _ ”

“ _ Daaaad _ ,” Peter whines. “Stop teasing me.”

“See, but Peter,” Steve says, and there’s a look of mischief in his eyes that has Tony suddenly very suspicious. “Look at the advantages-- this means you can also call your dad silly nicknames.”

“Like what?”

“Like--”

“Don’t you dare, Steve--”

“Shellhead.”

Tony spares a glance to Mo as she gets up from the table, before giving Steve his best Stern Big Brother look. “Oh, you are going to  _ regret _ that.”

Peter laughs. “Why shellhead?”

Steve leans in conspiratorially. “Well, back when your dad was in high school, he thought it would be a cool idea to weld a giant suit out of--”

“Daddy?”

Everyone turns at the uncertain tone in Mo’s voice, coming from the back entryway. Tony gets up and quickly walks over. “What’s wrong, honey?”

Mo just points over at Sandwich, who is now lying next to the back door, listless. There’s a large puddle of pee directly in front of the door, the edge of it only inches from Sandwich’s snout.

“He does seem kinda sick, Dad,” Peter says from where he’s come to stand at Tony’s side, before moving forward and putting an arm protectively around Mo. “What if he has rabies?”

“I’ve seen dogs with rabies before, Pete. I don’t think that’s what this is,” Tony says, before turning to grab a paper towel. ”Alright, I’ll give Dr. Banner a call tomorrow, make an appointment. Steve, will you take Sandwich out and tie him up by the shed?”

Steve nods, standing up from the table. And just like that, the last traces of the happy conversation from earlier are gone.

* * *

Day Two

_ “Where’s my wife, Rhodey? Where’s Pepper?” _

_ “Please, Tones,” Rhodey implores. “Just answer my question.” _

_ “The officer just said there was an accident-- drunk driving? They weren’t sure.” _

_ Rhodey shakes his head. “He wasn’t drinking-- he fell asleep at the wheel.” _

_ The sheriff gestures in the direction of the nearest ambulance, where a familiar face sits to the side on the grass looking listless, arms resting on bent knees. _

_ Tony looks back to Rhodey, eyes concerned. “Is he okay?” _

_ Rhodey gives a sad smile. “That’s the first thing Pepper asked-- and yes.” _

_ Tony gives an answering smile, relieved. “So she’s talking-- which ambulance is she in?” _

_ Rhodey takes a steadying breath. “She’s-- she’s not in an ambulance, Tones.” _

* * *

Tony is just throwing the ribs on the grill for lunch and deliberately  _ not _ thinking about his recurring nightmares when Rhodey pulls up the drive. 

He hands the BBQ fork to Peter, glancing over at where Mo sits across the lawn near her jungle gym, trying to get a lethargic Sandwich to take a drink from his water dish. 

“You think you can man the grill while your uncle and me talk to Rhodey?” he asks Peter, who nods back, already gently lifting the ribs to check the underside. “And keep an eye on your sister too.”

“I always do,” Peter replies with no small hint of exasperation, which has Tony flicking his nose.

“Hey!”

“You’re too young to be that sassy.”

“Well, you’re too old to be that annoying!”

Tony grins. “Comes with the job, kiddo. Now back to your station.”

“Yeah yeah,” Peter replies, waving him off.

Tony walks over to where Steve is already greeting his friend.

“Hey, platypus.”

Rhodey rolls his eyes. “For the last time, Tones. It’s Sheriff Rhodes when I’m on the job.”

Steve smirks at Tony. “Told ya.”

Rhodey looks between the two, giving a fond smile before turning serious. “So what’s going on with your crops?”

* * *

Rhodey kneels down, inspecting the stalks. “Look at where it’s bent over, Like a perfect L. Do either of you know of a machine that could do this?”

“Tony and I both grew up farming these fields,” Steve replied, standing nearby with his arms crossed. “I don’t know of any machine that can bend a stalk of corn over without breaking it.”

In the distance Tony can hear his kids chatting with each other from opposite sides of the backyard, followed by a faint sharp bark from Sandwich. He looks down, and sees-- a dead crow? Tony leans over to take a closer look. The bird’s head seems crushed in.

How odd.

He shakes his head, standing up again. “Could it be by hand? I still think it’s Loki and the twins.”

“This doesn’t seem like their kind of hijinks to me, Tones,” Rhodey says, standing up and looking around. “Plus, the footprints.”

“What about the footprints?”

Rhodey shrugs, brow furrowed. “That’s just it-- there aren't any.”

The trio sits in silence for a few moments, before Rhodey lets out a long sigh. 

“Y’know, this is the second thing this week I can’t explain.”

“What’s the other thing?” Steve asks.

“We’ve had reports all over the county of pets suddenly turning vicious. A golden retriever nearly tore the foot off a seven year-old boy just yesterday.”

Steve’s eyes widen. “Is it a virus?”

Rhodey shakes his head. “It’s more like they’re edgy, on alert. Like how they act when they smell a predator around… pissing themselves and everything.”

Tony tenses up, looking back in the direction of the house. There’s an unusually dark plume of smoke rising from the grill.

“What’s wrong?” Rhodey asks.

“I can’t hear Pete or Mo,” Tony replies, before taking off through the crops in search of his children-- the second time in as many days. 

Tony runs out of the cropline, Steve and Rhodey on his heels. The first thing he notices is the unmanned grill-- the ribs now charred black, soon to be in flames. He whips his head to the other side of the yard, mind screaming  _ PeteMoPeteMoPeteMo _ as he races over in their direction.

Mo is on top of her jungle gym, arms wrapped around her knees. She’s looking down at where Sandwich lies prostrate on the ground, Peter sitting right next to him.

The BBQ fork is stuck fast in the dog’s neck. 

“Oh my god,” Tony breathes out as he comes to a stop, taking in the dead animal before kneeling down and putting both hands on his son’s shoulders. “Peter, what happened?”

Peter’s eyes slowly move away from Sandwich and up to his father. “S-sandwich-- he started growling at Mo. Stood up and got really close to her. He wouldn’t back down even when I ordered him to-- I think he wanted to kill her.”

Tony swallows. “Did he hurt you?”

Peter shakes his head, before pulling his inhaler out of his pocket and taking a puff. His eyes tear up as he continues, “I don’t know why he would do that. He’s n-never been mean before. Sandwich wouldn’t hurt a fly. W-why would he do that, Dad?”

Tony exchanges a knowing look with Rhodey before turning back to Peter. “I’m so sorry, kiddo. But you did the right thing-- you protected your sister.”

Peter just nods again, before his eyes scrunch and he looks down, starting to sob. Tony pulls him in for a hug, motioning for Steve to pick up Mo.

The little girl readily wraps her arms around her uncle’s neck, although her eyes are still on Sandwich. “Will Mister Bruce make Sandwich feel better?”

Tony doesn’t have the first clue what to say to that, and it’s finally Steve who replies. “No, sweetheart. Sandwich went up to heaven to be with your mom. But it’s okay-- he can play with her up there now, just like you did with him down here.”

_ Don’t lie to her like that _ , Tony thinks, gritting his teeth. But he knows better than to say that right now-- not with both his children as distraught as they are.

“Let’s all get inside. Rhodey, do you want to--”

Rhodey nods. “Yeah, I’ll need to take the body to be examined. You got something I can wrap him in?”

“No, Dad!” Peter says, quickly standing up and wiping furiously at his eyes. “We have to bury him by Bella and Shadow!”

“I’m sorry, Pete,” Rhodey responds with no small amount of gentleness. “But I need to take him in for an autopsy. We need to find out why he was acting this way-- we need to see if we can stop it from happening again.”

Peter gives Rhodey a long look before turning pleading eyes on Tony. “Can we at least say a prayer?”

_ No _ , Tony wants to say. But again, his children are hurting-- could have even been _ killed _ . It’s not the time.

“Go on then.”

As everyone else puts their palms together and bow their heads, Tony keeps his own raised high-- fisted hands staying firmly at his sides.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Tony is walking Rhodey out while Steve stays in the living room, each kid curled into either side of him on the couch watching  _ The Iron Giant _ . 

Rhodey is about to open the front door when he pauses, turning back to Tony and softly saying. “Y’know, everyone misses seeing you and the kids on Sundays. The auxiliary ladies ask Steve all the time when you’ll be coming back.”

“Do they?” Tony replies with a clipped tone.

“Have you thought about letting him take the kids sometime? They could probably use something familiar, Tones -- something that reminds them of Pepper.”

Tony feels his anger rise. His son just had to  _ kill _ the family dog-- he really doesn’t need this shit on top of everything else. He takes the bait anyway.

“You really think it’ll help them to sit and listen in on sermons given by someone  _ not  _ their mother? To watch someone else stand at the pulpit, talking about what a good and gracious and loving God we have while knowing that same god stole their mother away?”

Rhodey gives Tony a hard stare. “This isn’t what Pepper would want, Tony-- and you know it.”

Tony scoffs. “Yeah well, there’s probably a lot of things I’ve done the last six months that she wouldn’t approve of. But it doesn’t matter what she wants anymore-- she’s  _ dead,  _ Rhodey. Taken by the same god she devoted her life to.”   
  


“I don’t blame you for being angry, Tony, but those kids are looking to you for all their cues. If you don’t want to go to church again, alright. Doubt there’s any god out there that would hold it against you. But for Pete & Mo’s sake-- you need to believe in  _ something _ .”

The small bit of chatter that was coming from the other room has died down, and Tony knows Steve and Peter are both trying to listen in. He swears it’s like they both have super-hearing, sometimes.

He brings his voice down to a whisper. “Don’t tell me what I need to believe in for my children,  _ Sheriff _ \-- I’ve been a parent for fourteen damn years. Pep may have been the natural but she’s not here anymore-- which leaves me to raise them as best I know how. And that includes not filling their heads with any more fantasies that some mystical man in the sky is going to watch out for them when he let their mother  _ die _ .”

By the end Tony is shaking, yet Rhodey remains stoic as ever. “You’re a good father, Tony-- you won’t hear me ever argue any different. But is this really what you want to teach your kids? That they’re all alone in the universe?”

Tony can feel his jaw tighten. “I gotta get back to those same kids, Rhodes, if you don’t mind.”

Rhodey readjusts his hat, before clapping Tony on the back. “Take care, Tones.”

Tony stands at the door, looking out into the fields long after Rhodey’s car disappears from sight.

* * *

Day Three

_ “She’s-- she’s not in an ambulance, Tones.” _

_ “Why not?” _

_ Rhodey looks back into the trees, toward the truck. “See, his truck swerved off the road and ah… hit Pepper and then a tree. Now she’s pinned between the two.” _

_ Tony’s brow furrows. “Pinned? What does that mean?” _

_ “Tones… the truck,” Rhodey pauses, takes a deep breath. “The truck has severed most of her lower half.” _

_ Tony feels his body go numb. “What did you say?” _

_ “She won’t be saved, Tones. At this point she’s alive, because the truck is holding her together. Now she doesn’t feel much, and she’s talking almost like normal. I didn’t have them pull the truck away ‘cause I wanted you to come down here and be with her, as long as she’s awake. That won’t be for very long.” _

_ Tony is pretty sure he’s going into shock-- he’s hanging onto the world by his fingertips, _

_ wants nothing more than to let go and fall into the abyss.  _

_ Rhodey puts a steadying hand on his shoulder. “Do you understand what I’m saying, Tony?” _

_ “Rhodey,” Tony croaks out, tears pooling in his eyes. “Is this the last time I’m going to speak with my wife?” _

_ Rhodey gulps, pulls him into a tight hug. There’s a soft whisper at Tony’s ear. _

_ “Yes it is, brother.” _

* * *

Tony’s eyes snap open to near-darkness. It must still be the middle of the night.

“I miss you, Pep,” he says to the ceiling.

Just then there’s movement to his right, and Tony turns his head to see a pair of big brown eyes glinting at him.

“Hey sweetheart, what’s the matter?”

“I saw a monster,” Mo replies matter-of-factly. “Can I have a glass of water?”

Tony lets out a long sigh. “What’s wrong with the water next to your bed?”

“It tastes old.”

Tony gets out of bed and picks his daughter up, carrying her back to her room before gently setting her down on her bed. He sits down next to her, both their legs dangling over the edge. Mo looks at him pensively.

“What are you thinking about, Momo?”

“Why do you talk to Mom when you’re by yourself?”

“It makes me feel better.”

Mo nods sagely. “Does she ever answer back?”

Tony brushes a stray hair out of her eyes. “No.”

Mo leans into Tony’s side, and he wraps an arm around her.

“She doesn’t answer me either.”

Tony feels like he could cry just then, and he looks out the window, trying to gather himself. But he forgets all about his sadness when he sees a large silhouetted figure on the roof of the house. It stares at him before moving, its shadow passing over Mo’s bedroom window and it jumps off to the other side of the roof. 

Tony stands up, looking down at Mo with wide eyes. She turns away from the window to look back at him, before laying down and crawling under her covers.

“Get under a blanket, daddy. Petey says monsters can’t get you under the blankets.”

Tony gulps. “Peter’s right, Momo. Stay under there and don’t move, okay?”

Tony doesn’t wait for a response, just leaves the bedroom and moves for the stairs. He’s ridiculously thankful when he gets down there to see Steve crashed out on the couch, the TV muted in front of him. 

“Steve!” Tony says, poking at his brother’s shoulder. 

“Wha’?” Steve replies, lifting his head and squinting at Tony. “What’s going--”

“Loki Laufeyson is back-- and this time he’s on the damn  _ roof _ .”

That gets Steve’s full attention, and he sits up looking around for a second before peering up at Tony. “We need to call Jim.”

“We don’t have time for that,” Tony replies hastily, going now to put on a light jacket. 

“Tony--”

“He’s scaring my children. It’s time for an ass whoopin’.”

“This isn’t an intelligent way to go about this,” Steve protests, even as he’s pulling on his sneakers.

“Just listen-- we both go outside and move around the house in opposite directions. We act crazy, insane with anger. Make Loki shit his pants and force him around ‘til we meet up on the other side.”

Steve still looks unsure. “Explain, ‘act crazy’?”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Cursing, baby bro. Y’know, like you’re pissed off?”

“But Tony, I don’t use that kind of language. You know that.”

More eye rolls. “You don’t  _ mean _ it. It’s just for show.”

Steve shakes his head. “It just doesn’t sound natural.”

“How in hell was I the nerd and you the jock and you somehow came out of high school the purer between the two of us?”

Steve shrugs, then gives Tony a small smirk. “I saw your bad example and decided to do the exact opposite, I guess.”

Tony sticks his tongue out at him.

“How very mature of you, big brother.”

Just then there’s more noises outside, and both men instantly sober up.

Tony warps his fingers around the door handle. “On the count of three. One, two, three--”

Tony slams open the door and goes immediately left, Steve going right. 

“We’re gonna get you, you fucker!” he yells, turning the first corner.

“I’m insane with anger! I’ve lost my mind!” Tony hears Steve cry out from the other side, only to awkwardly add, “It’s time for an ass-whoopin’!”

Tony would laugh but just then he sees a figure in the shadows at the far corner of the house. Just as quickly as he sees it the figure disappears around the corner.

“We got you now, you damn…”   
  


Tony gets around the back corner just as Steve arrives at the backyard too, but there’s nobody else there.

The two brothers meet right outside the backdoor porch steps.

“I cursed,” Steve announces with far less enthusiasm than Tony thinks he ought to have.

Tony, despite it all, grins. “I heard.”

There’s sharp raps on the roof again, and Tony and Steve back up away from the house simultaneously, heads turned skyward.

“How the hell did he get back up there?”

They follow the sound around the roof corner. Tony’s eye catches movement away from the house and he twists around to catch just a glimpse of a dark figure racing into the crops.

Tony and Steve just stare out at the cropline, jaws unhinged as the swing from Mo’s playground set sways back and forth with a high squeak. Slowly they turn to look at each other. Tony’s the first to speak.

“What the  _ fuck? _ ”

* * *

Rhodey’s back at the house later that morning, head in his hands. “So it was dark, huh?”

“Yep,” Tony confirms for the third time.

“Very, very dark,” Steve reiterates.

“Was there anything about the trespasser that stood out to you? Was he particularly tall, or short? Wearing anything identifiable?”

Tony and Steve exchange a glance, before turning to Rhodey again and shrugging in tandem. 

“It was very dark, Jim,” Steve repeats.

Rhodey lifts his head up and sits back in his chair, crossing his arms. “We’ve established that. Listen… don’t take this the wrong way - especially you Tones - but is it possible you two were chasing each other? You said you went opposite directions?”

Tony scoffs. “Rhodey, it sounds insane to me too, alright? But what I do know without a doubt is that someone was here last night, and he was looking in at my children. So on the  _ off chance _ this turns out to be serious, I need you to take  _ me _ seriously, damnit.”

Rhodey lifts his hands up in a mock surrender. “Okay, Tones. I’m sorry.”

“This guy got on the roof in  _ seconds _ , Jim,” Steve intones. He looks past the kitchen and into the living room. Tony can tell from his eyes that he’s looking at his baseball bat on the wall-- the bat that Steve used to win his high school varsity team the state title over a decade ago. Steve turns back to Rhodey. “Listen, I’m pretty fast and strong and even I couldn’t pull that off. It was almost like he leapt off the ground and right onto the roof.”

“That roof is over ten feet high, guys.”

“He’s telling the truth, Rhodey,” Tony says. “Whoever it was, they were very strong and could jump pretty damn high.”

“Dad!” Peter calls from the living room. “You gotta come see this!”

Tony stands up and walks over, the other two men following him. Mo trails behind them carrying a glass of water. 

Tony eyes the six full glasses already sitting out on various surfaces, then walks over to Mo and pulls the glass gently from her hands. “Momo, you’re too old to still be doing this. The rule is, you take a glass of water, you finish it. Now,” - Tony points to one of the glasses - “what’s wrong with this one?”

“There’s dust in it.”

“And this one?”

“A hair.”

“How about this one? You told me love the glass with the pink tulips was your favorite.”

“Petey sipped some and now it has his amoebas in it.”

“Daaaad,” Peter whines from the couch. “You’re not paying attention!”

Tony gives a heavy sigh as he hands Mo back her glass before turning to see CNN on the television. 

They’re showing an aerial view of various crop circles, similar to the one in Tony’s field.

_ “--images were shot yesterday afternoon by a thirty-four year old local camera man in Kerala, a southern city of India. It is the eighteenth reported crop circle found in that country in the last seventy-two hours. _ ”

The television cuts to some professor from Columbia University. 

“ _ Crop circles first emerged in the late seventies with the renewed interest in extraterrestrial life. They died out by the early eighties; dismissed as hoaxes. This new resurgence is wholly different. Elements of it are unexplainable. The speed and the quantity in which it has appeared implies the coordination of hundreds of individuals over many countries... There is only a limited amount of explanations. Either this is one of the most elaborate hoaxes ever created, or basically... It's for real.” _

“They’re saying it’s aliens, Dad,” Peter says with a voice full of wonder, before taking a puff of his inhaler.

“What in the world is going on?” Steve asks rhetorically.

Everyone in the room watches for a few more seconds before Rhodey pulls Tony to the side. “Listen, I have to get back to the station but can we talk outside?”

Tony gestures for the door, and the two men walk out onto the porch.

“Look, Tones. I know you’re worried for your kids and I believe you when you say there’s been someone skulking around here, alright? And I’m taking this seriously, I swear. But nothing’s been stolen, you can’t think of anyone who wants to bring your family harm, and you can’t even describe the trespasser. Until I have more to go on, there’s just nothing to work with here. Now you want some advice?”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “After yesterday, not particularly.”

“Well you’re getting it anyway. Listen, your family has had a rough last few days between the vandalism of your crops and what happened with Sandwich. Now I know you quit church, and I’ve already said my piece on that. But have you even left the farm all summer? And I don’t mean errands.”

Tony turns away to look out at the fields, before shaking his head. 

Rhodey nods, as though that’s exactly what he figured. “Maybe you should do something fun? Get out of here for a few hours-- go into town, have lunch. Just something to get you out of your heads for a bit. I know all of you have had it rough for even longer than just the last few days. And the last thing Pete and Mo need right now is to worry about crazy things happening in the world. Get their minds--  _ your _ mind, back on everyday things.”

Tony turns back to Rhodey and gives him a small smile. “I’ll admit-- not bad advice, platypus.”

“So we’re good?”

“Yeah, we’re good.”

Rhodey gives him a genuine grin and claps Tony on the shoulder, before getting into his car and pulling away.

Tony walks back inside, heading for the living room where the rest of the family is still glued to the screen. He plucks up the remote and turns off the TV.

“Hey! I was watching that!”

“No more TV for now, bud,” Tony announces. “We’re going into town for lunch.”

“But, Dad--”

“We can stop at the bookstore-- you can get any book you want.”

Tony turns to Steve. “You too, big guy.”

The man shakes his head. “No, I’m gonna hang back. Make sure nobody comes around who’s not invited.”

Tony shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

* * *

Tony’s plan for a reprieve from the madness doesn’t last very long. As they step into Hogan’s Books, Mo heads straight for the storybook corner while Peter makes a beeline for where Happy - the co-owner along with his wife May - sits, watching footage of the crop circles on a news broadcast.

The news switches to a Coke commercial, and Happy sputters. “It’s a bunch of crock, Tony. They’re trying to sell sodas, plain and simple. I’ve been watching these reports since early this morning. I’ve seen twelve soda commercials so far. Twelve!”

“Excuse me, Mr. Hogan, but do you have any books on extraterrestrials?” Peter interrupts.

Happy turns to him, looking disgusted. “Don’t tell me you believe this horse manure, kid.”

Just then May steps out from behind the curtain that hides the back office. She greets Tony before addressing Peter. “As a matter of fact, I think we do, hon. I’ll show you where.”

Tony gently grabs Peter’s arm as he passes by. “Kiddo, the idea was to get away from all that junk.”

“You said I could get any book I wanted, Dad!” Peter argues. “You  _ promised _ .”

Tony sighs. He was sure doing a lot of that lately, it seemed. “I did, didn’t I?”

As Peter walks away, Tony’s attention is pulled once more to the TV, where some crazy-eyed guy with a military-style crew cut is being interviewed in a newsroom.

_ “We’ve heard many reports now of strange beings glimpsed all over the world, it seems. Nobody knows what they look like, ‘cause they’re staying in the shadows-- covert like. And there’s been no reports of injuries, which is the giveaway. It’s called probing. It’s a military procedure. You send a reconnaissance group, very small, to check out things. Not to engage, but to evaluate the situation. See if we pose a threat. Make sure things are all clear.” _

_ “Clear for what?” _ the news personality asks.

The crazy-eyed man smiles.  _ “Why, clear for the rest of them, of course.” _

* * *

“It says here they’re probably very small - like my height or shorter - because as their brains developed, there was no use for physical development,” Peter shares with Mo as he reads his book in the car on the way home. “It says they’re probably vegetarians too, because they would have realized the benefits of such a diet.”

Tony keeps changing the radio station but all he hears is discussion of the crop circles and possible alien sightings. He shuts it off before turning back to the children.

“Enough of that, Peter. I don’t want to hear another word from that book in this car, okay? Let’s talk about normal things.”

“Normal things like what?” Peter says with no small hint of teenage pissiness. 

“I don’t know, like how you have school starting in two weeks, and how it’ll be Mo’s first year. Are you excited for kindergarten, Mo?”

Mo shakes her head. “I wanna hear more about the aliens!” 

She looks at Peter. “Do you think they’re furry?”

Peter smiles at her patiently. “I dunno, Mo-- but maybe.”

Tony’s about to redirect the conversation once more when he spots a shiny truck coming up the way. 

The two vehicles come to a four way stop amongst the fields, Tony watching - frozen to the spot - as the familiar face of Bucky Barnes slowly goes by. 

He hasn’t seen the man in person in months. Bucky must have recognized their car too, because he looks straight ahead as they pass each other, only glancing over to meet Tony’s eyes for a second before he ducks his head down and turns his gaze back on the road.

It’s not until the man’s truck is long past them that Tony realizes he’s just been idling at the stop for near-on thirty seconds.

“Was that him?” Mo asks, and Tony glances in the rearview mirror as he steps on the gas to see both kid’s straining to look backwards at the bumper of the truck. “The man who hurt Mommy?”

“Yeah, Mo,” Peter softly answers her when Tony doesn’t respond, turning to face forward as their station wagon lurches. “That was the man who hurt Mommy.”

* * *

Tony’s in the kitchen finishing up the spaghetti. He can hear the television on in the next room, but he’s doing his best not to listen.

The built-up tension from the stress of the past few days is simmering just under his skin, and he has to work to use a jovial tone when he calls everyone in for dinner.

His jaw clenches when Peter ambles in, only to open the damn alien book and start reading it as everyone else passes plates around.

“How goes the reading, kiddo?” Steve asks him.

Peter doesn’t even look up. “The author is talking about how there are two reasons why extraterrestrials would visit us. One is to make contact in the spirit of exploration and furthering knowledge of the universe. Or the other reason… They’re hostile. They’ve used up the resources on their planet and are looking to harvest ours next.”

Tony can’t take it anymore. He reaches over, plucks the book out of Peter’s hands and flings it into the living room.

“Hey! What was that for?”

“No reading at the table.”

“Are you not even seeing what’s happening?  _ Aliens _ are on earth, Dad! You can’t just--”

“I said no reading at the table, Peter! Now be quiet and eat.”

Peter pushes away from the table and stands up, face red. “You can’t just hole us up in this house forever and pretend everything’s okay when it’s not! Nothing’s okay-- nothing has been okay since Mom--”

Tony slams a fist on the table. “Peter Jarvis Stark-- you will be quiet and eat, damnit!”

He takes a bite of his sphaghetti, chewing angrily and swallowing before adding, “You will sit at this table and enjoy this meal with your family and you will ignore that fuckin’ nonsense or I will unplug the damn TV and toss it outside myself. Do you understand me?”

Everyone is frozen in place for a few moments, clearly shocked at Tony’s outburst. He’s not sure Mo’s ever seen him this mad, and Peter only very rarely.  _ Tough shit _ , Tony thinks, only to inwardly grimace.

He opens his mouth to apologize for yelling but Peter gets there first.

“It’s not nonsense,” the teen resolutely argues, eyes narrowed at his father. “Sure, maybe it’s not aliens, but it could still be a sign from God, or from Mom-- and you’re not even paying attention! It’s like you don’t even care anymore!”

Tony throws down his fork, leaning back in his chair. “You know something? I can see how people get carried away with this sort of shit. It’s a kind of faith, isn’t it? And it’s intoxicating to believe in something you can’t see.”

He leans forward again. “But you’re right, Peter. I don’t care anymore. Because you know what? Everything your mom believed in, all her faith-- and look where that got her. She died anyway, despite all her prayers, all her convictions.”

“Tony…” Steve says, sounding regretful as he nods at Mo, who Tony notices is starting to cry.

Tony’s still too angry to feel bad. He turns to look at each of the others one by one. “We’re done with this, okay? We’re  _ done _ . No more talking about aliens or any of it. I don’t want to hear another goddamn word about any of this until it’s all over and you all see it was make-believe.”

Peter picks up his plate, then points at Tony. “Just because you gave up when Mom died doesn’t mean the rest of us have to!”

Tony doesn’t respond, shocked into silence.

Without another word Peter goes back into the living room and turns the television back on.

They’re all still sitting at the table in silence and not eating when he calls for them.

“Dad! Uncle Steve!”

Peter’s tone sounds so opposite of his harsh words not even a minute before - so  _ frightened  _ \- that Tony doesn’t even consider staying put. He runs into the room, Steve and Mo at his heels. Peter is staring at the TV screen, eyes wide. “Just watch.”

“ _ \--please be warned, the following images may disturb you. _ ” 

The screen changes from the announcer to a handheld video image of a family room where a bunch of children in dress clothes are crowded around a sliding glass window. The children are speaking another language - Spanish or Portugeuse, Tony thinks - and looking between the camera and outside the window. Whoever is holding the video camera moves to look over their shoulders and into a cramped backyard. There’s a table with party decorations and an untouched birthday cake. Nobody is outside.

The image pans around the dense foliage in the yard, zooming in and out of the darkness of the branches. Then, to Tony’s horror, the branches move of their own accord. From the shrubs and trees emerges a non-human figure. The children in the video start screaming. The creature - at least seven feet tall and still reflecting the exact color of the foliage it had been blending into - dashes toward the fence, easily jumping right over it. 

“Oh my goodness,” Tony hears Steve utter, words laced with a mix of awe and horror.

Mo screams then, running over to Tony who picks her up easily, still staring in shock at the TV as it goes back to the announcer.

Tony turns to look at Peter, only to find him looking at Tony imploringly, almost scared-- looking for comfort maybe.

He takes another inhaler puff. “They said there’s invisible portals they’re coming out from. You can tell because birds run into the edges and it crushes their heads.”

Tony looks at Steve, eyes wide. 

“What is it?” Steve asks, concerned.

“Grab one of your old bats and a few balls. We need to test something.”

* * *

It only takes Steve two good whacks for them to find out for certain what Tony had feared. The first baseball goes to the right, landing a good 400 feet out into the field. But the second… the second is flying through the air, on a similar path but a few dozen feet over-- only to hit an invisible wall and flop straight down to the ground.

Steve turns around, bat handle hanging limply from his hand. “My gosh. Tony…”

Before Tony can answer he hears a vehicle pulling up the drive. “I bet that’s Rhodey. But get back inside with the kids, just in case it’s not.”

Steve nods, running for the back door while Tony jogs around the house to the front. 

The last person he expects to see is Bucky Barnes sitting in his new truck, staring distantly at the steering wheel in front of him.

As Tony walks up he rolls down his window, and that’s when Tony sees-- the man’s left arm is absolutely covered in blood. Tony spots what he thinks are large, deep gashes across his bicep. Whatever he was going to say dies in his throat at the sight.

“What happened, Buck?”

Bucky still doesn’t look up. “I wrote your number down to call you. It’s been sitting next to the phone for six months. I’ve never had the courage. I’m sorry.”

Tony says nothing as Bucky starts to cry.

“I worked so long that night. I ain’t never fallen asleep driving before. And never since. Most of the ride home, there wasn’t a car in either direction. If I’d fallen asleep then, I’d have ended up in a ditch with a headache. It had to happen at precisely the right moment. That certain ten to fifteen seconds when I passed her walking. It was like it was meant to be.” 

Bucky finally looks up into Tony’s eyes, his own full of shame. “I guess if this is the end of the world, I’m screwed, right? People who kill reverends aren’t exactly ushered to the front of the line in heaven.”

Tony takes a deep breath. “Where are you going?”

“I don’t know. Wherever it is, it can’t be any worse than here, leastways.”

Bucky licks his lips nervously. “I came to tell you-- I locked one of them in my pantry closet. But they’re close, Tony-- so whether you go or stay, protect your family. They have claws and they’re vicious, but they don’t physically seem any stronger than you or me. I was able to slice off two claws before it got me in the arm.”

Bucky starts his truck back up, before glancing up at Tony once more. “I’m truly sorry for what I’ve put you and your family through. Hopefully warning you now makes up for some fraction of it.”

He’s about to pull away when Tony says, “Hey Buck?”

“Yeah?”

“I can’t say I’ve forgiven you, but-- Pepper did. She said to tell you before-- before she died.”

Bucky nods. “Thank you, Tony. Good luck.”

Tony doesn’t watch the truck take off, turning on his heels and racing into the house. He finds Steve, Peter and Mo all at the front door, obviously having just watched the exchange. 

“Tell me, kiddo,” Tony says, addressing Peter. “In that book of yours, did they happen to detail what would happen if they were hostile?”

Peter looks confused, but nods. “Yeah. They would invade us using only ground tactics. Hand to hand combat. They wouldn’t use their technology or fight an airborne battle, because they would know we would eventually use nuclear weapons and the planet would be useless to them.”

Tony grabs at his left arm, feeling an old ache coming back in full force. “Did they say what our chances would be if they did invade?”

“Just that one of two things could happen. One, they fight and are defeated and leave to return again with full forces hundreds or even thousands of years later.”

“What’s two?” Steve asks.

Peter takes another puff of his inhaler. “They win.”

Tony sits down hard on the bottom step of the second floor stairway. “What do you all think about heading out? That portal is in our damn backyard.”

Tony looks at Steve. “We can pack up and leave-- or we can stay here. Board up the house. Hide inside our home and wait it out. Either way at least we’ll be together.”

Everyone is quiet for a moment before Peter says, “How about a vote?”

Tony nods. “All those in favor of heading out, raise your hand.”

Nobody raises a hand.

“All those in favor of home, raise your hand.”

All four hands go up in the air. 

“How do we know boards will do anything?” Steve asks Tony.

“Because according to Bucky Barnes, they have trouble with pantry doors.”

* * *

By nightfall, Tony, Steve and Peter had managed to board up every door and window on the ground floor. They didn’t have enough planks for the second floor, so Tony and Steve had boarded up all the doors on the landing instead.

Now it’s nearing midnight, and Tony and Steve are the only ones still awake. They’re all on the couch, Peter asleep with his head on Steve’s shoulder while Mo is passed out across Tony’s lap.

Tony counts at least thirteen water glasses in the living room-- he hadn’t had the heart to tell Mo to stop getting them.

The two brothers sit in silence, watching the muted TV as crowds gather in the streets, some with signs begging for the aliens to take them back to their home planet.

It’s Steve who breaches the quiet first. “Some people are probably thinking this is the end of the world. Do you think it’s a possibility?”

Tony doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

“How can you say that?”

Tony turns to face Steve. “That wasn’t the answer you wanted?”

Steve gives a tiny shrug, before looking at Tony with a pleading gaze that reminds him so much of Peter it makes his heart twinge. “Can you at least pretend like you still have some hope left? Give me some comfort?”

Tony thinks for a minute or so.

“I’ll offer this-- people break down into two groups. When they experience something lucky, group number one sees it as more than luck, more than coincidence. They see it as a sign, evidence, that there is someone up there, watching out for them-- a sign of God’s existence. Group number two sees it as just pure luck. Just a happy turn of chance. I'm sure the people in group number two are looking at all this in a very suspicious way. For them, the situation is a fifty-fifty. Could be bad, could be good. But deep down, they feel that whatever happens, they're on their own.”

Tony pauses. “So what you have to ask yourself is, what kind of person are you? Are you the kind that sees signs, that sees miracles? Or do you believe that some people just get lucky, and others simply don’t?”

Steve seems to chew on Tony’s words for a moment, before giving a small smile. “So I was at this party in high school once-- don’t look at me like that, Tony-- Peggy Carter had really wanted to go and I really liked her, so I gave in. Anyway, I was on the couch with her, and she was just sitting there, looking beautiful and beckoning me to kiss her. I go to lean in and kiss her when I realize I have gum in my mouth. So I turn and take out the gum-- stuff it in a paper cup next to the sofa and turn around. And right then-- Peggy threw up  _ all over _ herself. I’ve never seen anything like it before or since.”

The two men chuckle softly at the same time, before Steve continues.

“But I knew the second it happened-- it was a miracle. I could have been kissing her when she threw up. That would have scarred me for life. I may never have recovered.”

Steve points at the screen. “I’m a miracle man. Finding out aliens exist? Even if it seems scary right now, finding out that there’s way more life out there than we ever knew? I think that’s a miracle.”

Tony shrugs. “There you go.”

“So which type are you?”

“Do you feel comforted?”

Steve nods, still smiling.

“Then what does it matter?”

“Oh, c’mon Tony. I know you’ve been struggling but-- you can’t tell me you don’t really believe in God anymore? I mean, you were married to Pepper-- the biggest believer of all.”

Tony shakes his head, and Steve just scoffs, turning back to the TV. He looks surprised when Tony speaks up again a few minutes later. 

“Do you know what Pep’s last words were before they let her die?”

Steve’s eyes widen, looking completely thrown off, but he shakes his head.

“She said  _ see _ and then her eyes glazed a bit and she said,  _ tell Steve to swing away.” _

Steve’s mouth opens wide, clearly shocked. Tony chuckles at his expression.

“Do you know why she said that? Because the nerve endings in her brain were firing as she died, and some random memory of us at one of your ball games popped into her head.”

Tony turns back to the television screen. “There is no one watching out for us, Steve. We’re all on our own.”

* * *

Day Four

_ “Is this the last time I’m going to speak with my wife?” _

_ “Yes it is, brother,” Rhodey whispers, before pulling away and leading Tony down the road, toward his wife. His beautiful, amazing, radiant-- dying wife. _

_ As soon as Tony sees her he falls out his daze, coming around the side of the vehicle. _

_ Pepper leans over the front bumper of the truck onto the hood, her head resting on her arms like a child resting on a school desk. Her back is against the tree, and Tony can’t see her lower half. _

_ She’s still wearing her clergy shirt, the white collar stained crimson. _

_ Pepper raises her head and shoulders slightly as Tony walks up to her, taking her nearest hand in his own. _

_ “Hi sweetie.” _

_ “Hi baby.” _

_ Tony glances down, sees bundles of blood soaked blankets in the area below her, peeking out from under the twisted front of the truck. He looks back up at Pepper quickly. _

_ “I was just taking a walk before dinner.” _

_ Tony gives her the biggest smile he can, which is hardly a smile at all. “You love walks.” _

_ She gives him a small smile in return. “I guess it was meant to be.” _

* * *

Tony wakes up to whispers. He opens his eyes from his position on the couch to see both of his children chatting quietly on the floor, the clock above them reading 3:26 AM. The TV is still muted, and still showing giant crowds taking over the streets.

Steve pads into the room, carrying another two glasses of water. Tony closes his eyes, pretending to still be asleep.

“You guys okay?” he hears Steve ask quietly.

Mo says nothing, but Peter answers right away. “They just showed some guy with a sign saying it was the end of the world. Nothing really bad is going to happen, right Uncle Steve?”

The words are uttered with a childlike fear that Tony hasn’t heard from Peter since the night Pepper died. He’d thought it was gone forever, but maybe it was just that Peter quit looking to Tony to provide that comfort.

“Don’t worry,” Steve whispers. There’s a pause then and Tony slits his eyes open just enough to watch Steve settle down on the floor, wrapping an arm around each of the kids.

“You know how you were talking earlier about signs from your mom, Pete? Well, sometimes there are things that happen by chance or luck, but make you feel like someone’s watching out for you. And if you look for them, you can find them everywhere.”

“I once had a bad dream and I couldn’t wake up,” Peter says after a few seconds. “I kicked at the table next to my bed and something fell on me and I woke up. It was a picture of Mom. She was smiling. It made me feel safe… you mean like that?”

“Yeah, kiddo. Exactly like that.”

There’s silence then, and Tony cracks open his eyes only to see Steve watching him. Steve, who obviously knew he was awake.

His brother looks back down at Peter and Mo, giving them a reassuring smile. “Me? I believe in those signs. I think there’s someone watching out for us. And I got to believe that he or she is going to make sure we’re alright in the end.”

Just then the TV goes dark, and suddenly the crowds are gone, replaced with a no-signal screen.

Tony gets up and races to one of the back windows, peaking between the boards at the crop line. The flood light from the house throws long shadows over the yard. 

Tony stares hard out into the crops, just waiting. Suddenly he sees movement in the stalks. Tony watches as lines emerge in the crops, stalks bending as though a group is walking over them, stomping them down. They move in the darkness toward the house.

Tony turns to face his family. As soon as they see his face they all freeze, only to jump when there’s a loud bang at the front door.

Everyone stands up and Mo runs straight into Tony’s arms. He quickly picks her up and carries her into the main entryway, Steve ushering Peter behind him.

“Daddy!” Mo screams, sobbing.

_ This is it,  _ Tony thinks, the panic in him calming at the thought.  _ This is the end. _

“Did I ever tell you what everyone said when you were born, Momo?”

Mo sobs  _ no  _ into his shoulder.

“You came out of your momma and you didn’t even cry. You just opened your eyes and looked around at everybody. Your eyes were so big and gorgeous, the ladies in the room gasped. Then they said,  _ she’s like an angel _ . They said,  _ we’ve never seen a baby so beautiful. _ ”

Mo pulls her head off his shoulder, smiling despite her tear-streaked face. Tony beams right back at her.

“And you know what else happened? When they put you on the table to clean you up, you looked at me and smiled. They say babies that young can’t smile… but  _ you _ smiled.”

Tony brushes Mo’s hair out of her face and kisses her on the forehead.

Just then there’s more sounds of movement outside-- creaks of wood from the front porch. Scratches behind the locked back door-- at the side of the house. The noises start piling on top of each other until they seem to be coming from all directions. Tony watches in resignation as one of the creatures tries to twist the front door handle.

Tony feels Peter wrap himself around his side. 

“Dad?” Peter asks, sounding terrified.

Tony sets Mo down, running his fingers through her hair when she immediately octopuses around his leg while with the other hand he palms Peter’s cheek.

“Do you know what happened when you were born, Peter?”

Peter shakes his head.

“You came out and your momma kept bleeding. The doctors rushed you out of the room before I could even see you.”

“They’re on the roof!” Steve cries out, but Tony ignores him.

“While they were trying to fix her up, all she kept asking about was you.”

The thuds above increase in number-- there’s shattering glass upstairs.

“They’re in the house, Tony!”

Peter looks away from his father, but Tony uses a finger to redirect his gaze back.

“I wanted your momma to see you first. She had looked forward to holding you in her arms her whole life. So they waited ‘til she felt better, then they brought you in. They placed you right in her arms. And she looked at you. And you looked at her. You just stared at each other for the longest time and then she said real soft,  _ Hello Peter, I’m your momma. You looked just how I dreamed. _ ”

Tony smiles down at Peter who gently smiles back.

There’s scratching noises above their heads now, and the group of four turns and looks up at the second floor landing from the bottom of the stairs. Bedroom door handles are being rattled, but the dust falling from between the second floor ceiling planks is what has Steve turning to Tony, suddenly horrified.

“The attic hatch-- we forgot the attic hatch!”

Tony turns to pick up Mo and the group races into the kitchen, piling chairs against the old swinging door that separates it from the living room.

“This is going to do nothing,” Steve cries out as he lifts the last chair. 

“We have to go into the basement,” Tony responds, voice strained from pushing the large dining room table to rest against the pile.

As soon as the table is positioned they race down the basement stairs, Steve turning on the sole bulb in the middle of the giant stone and concrete room. 

Tony is the last one in, closing the door and pressing his back against it. Steve is looking all around, frantic. He finally turns to look back at Tony.

“There’s no way out of here. Maybe we should try to make a run for it instead.”

Tony shakes his head, looking down at Mo who is standing only a few feet away, clutching her brother's hand. “If we go outside…”

_ They’ll rip my children away from me and tear them apart and then they’ll do the same to us too. _

Luckily Steve understands what he’s saying, and just nods.

Just then there’s a crash of chairs above-- the dining room table being pushed across the floor.

“They’re in the kitchen,” Peter says, breaths ratcheting up.

Tony wraps his fingers around the basement door handle. “We need something to wedge against this door, Steve.”

As Steve starts frantically searching the metal shelves lining the walls, Tony leans his head against the door. He can hear some sort of unearthly language - like constant inhales at different paces and tones - getting closer. 

There’s a creaking of the basement stairs, then the doorknob starts to turn. Tony grabs it with both hands, holding fast. He looks across the room to where his frightened children have wedged themselves back  against the wall by the washer, Peter holding onto Mo tight.

“Steve!” Tony yells out in desperation.

“I’m looking!”

Steve finally grabs something off the shelves and races over. He wedges it under the handle, and Tony sees it’s a pick axe.

Whatever was rattling the basement door handle stops, and starts to bang on the door instead.

After a few loud bangs Tony realizes-- “They’re just making noises, they’re not trying to get in. Why would they do that?”

Steve glances over at him from where he has his hands pressed against the door, inches from Tony’s. “They want our attention on the door?”

Peter pipes up from by the washer. “The book said they’re probably very good problem solvers. They’ll find a way in.”

Steve turns back to Tony. “But there’s no other way, right?”

Tony and Steve step away from the door, looking around the room.

There’s nothing but shelves around the walls. Tony’s eyes flit over them, mind cataloging extension cords, a hammer, Christmas decorations, an old clock radio, giant bags of dog food in the corner-- then movement, right at the corner of his eye.

It’s coming from the laundry chute-- right by Peter’s head.

Peter suddenly jerks. “Wha--”

The creature grabs Peter from around his neck, trying to haul him into the chute. Mo screams and runs to the other side of the room as Tony and Steve race toward Peter, Tony grabbing the hammer he’d spotted off the shelf and thrusting it into Steve’s hands. As Tony pulls at Peter’s torso, Steve slams the hammer down onto the creature’s arm. The creature lets go of Peter with an inhuman squeal, and Tony pulls him across the floor as Steve starts to pile the giant dog food bags against the wall until they completely cover the chute. 

Meanwhile Tony’s focus is on Peter, who is in the throes of a massive asthma attack brought on by his panic during the assault.

Tony pats down Peter’s pockets once, then again.

_ Oh god, no, please-- nonono-- _

Thinking fast, Tony hauls Peter into his arms and moves them both a few feet over to lean against one of the house’s support beams. He drops down to the ground and pulls Peter in until the teen’s back is against his own chest, the boy’s body resting between Tony’s splayed legs.

Tony locks eyes with Steve, who is also sitting on the ground, a sobbing Mo wrapped up in his arms. “We don’t have his medicine.”

Peter’s face is pale, his pupils huge as they glance up at Tony. It sounds like the teen is breathing through a straw. 

It’s been Tony’s least favorite sound in the world for over a decade now. Yet he’s never hated it more than he does right now-- when Peter is suffocating and Tony can’t do a damn thing to stop it.

Tony refocuses on his son, leaning his head down to speak right into the boy’s ear.

“Don’t be scared, Peter. We’ll slow it down - you and me - together. Feel my chest. Feel the air going in… and out. Breathe like me… Breathe like me.”

Every one of Peter's breaths sound like a tiny squeak-- airway closing as he looks at Tony, expression full of strain and panic. Tony closes his eyes, leaning in even more, until his lips brush against the soft curve of his son’s ear. 

“Stay with me. Stay with me, Pete. I know it hurts. Be strong, kiddo… it’ll pass.”

Peter fists the fabric of Tony’s jeans at his knees, body taut. His eyes are closed now, and Tony can tell he’s fighting to stay conscious.

Tony lets out a sob. “Not again.” 

He locks eyes with Steve once more, who is staring at him with a look of utter desolation. 

Tony looks up at the ceiling. “Don’t you  _ dare  _ do this to me again.”

_ Please, God, don’t do this. I hate you. I hate you. I beg you-- don’t do this. Don’t take him from me. _

Tony looks back down at Peter, fighting back a sob. “The fear is feeding it. Don’t be afraid of what’s happening, Pete. Believe it’s going to pass.  _ Believe _ it. The air is coming. We don’t have to be afraid-- because it’s about to pass.”

There’s silence for a few moments, Peter’s chest going still. Tony is suddenly certain that this is truly the end-- that his child is about to suffocate to death in his arms.

But then Peter takes a strangled breath-- one that - while it might be awful-sounding - is still marginally better than the one before. Then he takes another one, and another.

Tony kisses the side of his son’s head. “Here it comes… don’t be afraid… feel my chest… breathe with me. Together, the air is going in our lungs… together, we’re the same.”

Peter’s next breath still sounds like air leaking from a balloon, but it’s  _ a full breath _ all the same. So is the next one, and the next.

The teen's fingers relax their grasp on Tony’s jeans as the attack passes, Peter’s chest rising and falling in sync with his father’s.

Tony finally allows the sob he’s been holding back to break through. He buries his forehead into Peter’s neck. “We’re the same, kiddo. We’re the same.”

They sit like that for a few minutes, until Peter’s breaths have evened out and Tony’s quit crying. Tony twists his head to look at Steve, who is still holding a now-sleeping Mo tight, his eyes red-rimmed.

“We should save the bulb, just in case,” he says quietly.

Tony nods, watching as Steve gets up with Mo in his arms and pulls the bulb’s cord-- shrouding the basement in darkness. 

Tony closes his eyes only when he feels Steve settle nearby, Mo safely nestled in his lap. It’s not long before he drifts.

* * *

_ “I guess it was meant to be” Pepper says, voice fragile-- Tony holding onto the sound of it in his mind as one might hold a baby bird in their palm. _

_ “ _ _ Does it hurt?” he asks her. _

_ “I don’t feel much.” _

_ “Good, sweetheart.” Tony touches her cheek. “I love you so much, Pep. So very much. I’ll never stop.” _

_ Pepper’s lip trembles. “I l-love you too, Tony.” _

_ She starts to cry, and Tony can’t help but begin to cry with her. She was always the stronger one of the two of them-- by the time she breaks, he’s already long broken. _

_ “Tell Bucky it’s okay, I forgive him. God f-forgives him.” _

_ Tony nods, barely able to see through his tears. _

_ “Tell Peter to remember to laugh-- it’s okay to be silly.” _

_ “I will, Pep.” _

_ “Tell Mo to listen to her brother-- he’ll always take care of her.” _

_ Tony’s sobbing in earnest now. “I promise, sweetheart.” _

_ “Tell Tony…” _

_ Tony gives her hand a tight squeeze. “I’m here, Pep.” _

_ “Tell him… see. Tell Tony to  _ see _ .” _

_ Pepper’s head drops onto Tony’s hand, her cheek resting on the back of his palm. Her eyes go distant, staring off into nothing. _

_ “And tell Steve to swing away.” _

_ Tony watches in horror as Pepper’s face goes slack. She gives one last soft exhale, and then… then… _

_ “P-Pep? Baby?” _

_ Rhodey is suddenly right there, pulling Tony away. _

_ “Pepper? God, no… no…” _

_ As Rhodey half-drags half-carries Tony away from the lifeless body of his once-vibrant wife, he can only form two coherent thoughts: _

_ First:  _ I love you, Pepper. I love you.

_ And last: _ There’s no such thing as a loving, just god. If there was, they would have saved Pepper Stark.

* * *

Tony wakes up still against the beam. Steve is standing not five feet in front of him, adjusting the volume on the old clock radio.

_ “...Jordan, Saudi Arabia and Bahrain have all confirmed. Parts of China and Northern Korea are among the few remaining to verify withdrawals.” _

“They’re broadcasting,” Tony murmurs, standing up himself.

Steve nods. “I’ve been listening for almost an hour. It went on all night. Everywhere, they say. It was completely a ground battle. A lot of people died-- some from combat, but most from poison gas. Apparently they can secrete it with their bodies somehow.”

Tony takes a sharp breath. “How many died?”

Steve grimaces. “Hundreds of thousands, at least. But then all of a sudden-- they started to leave. Mass evacuation. Been going on for hours now.”

Then Steve gives Tony a large grin. “We won, Tony.”

Tony leans against one of the nearby shelves, suddenly feeling nauseous. He brings an arm to rest across his eyes for a few moments, steadying himself. When he looks back up at Steve, his brother’s grin has fallen away. 

“You didn’t think we’d make it.”

Tony shakes his head. “No.”

Steve breathes out through his teeth. “Listen, there’s things I can take and a couple things I can’t, and one of them is seeing my older brother - who is everything I want to be - start losing faith in things. I saw your eyes last night, Tony. I don’t  _ ever _ want to see your eyes like that again. I’m serious.”

Steve’s face is hard. He looks shaken. Tony stares at the conviction in his baby brother’s expression, sees the visceral  _ need _ there. “Okay, baby bro.”

Just then there’s a wheezing sound from the corner of the room. Tony and Steve turn to look at Peter, who is asleep on top of one of Pepper’s old seminary sweaters, Mo tucked against his back.

“He’s been like that for a while,” Steve admits, worry bleeding into his tone. “We need to get him some medicine.”

Tony nods, determined. “Have they said anything about our area?”

“Philly and its outlying counties are cleared, but who knows for sure?”

“He’s not strong enough to fight off another attack. I’ll go up first and check things out.”

Tony quietly removes the pick axe and cracks open the door, morning light from the kitchen illuminating the stairwell. 

Slowly Tony ascends the stairs, before entering the kitchen. The place is a mess, the chairs all knocked over, other appliances and dishware strewn about. Carefully he pries open the door to the living room all the way, before making his way through the rest of the first floor and second floors. A lot of the rooms are a bit of a mess but nothing looks deliberately broken besides the bedroom windows. He can’t find any evidence that any of the creatures are still in the house.

He makes his way back to the basement, Steve waiting anxiously for him by the door, a wide-awake Mo back in his arms.

“All-clear,” he announces, Steve letting out a long breath of relief at the words. 

As Steve leads Mo to the kitchen, Tony goes to pick up Peter. The boy startles at the movement, his eyes cracking open to look at Tony in confusion as the man carries him up the stairs.

“Hey kiddo,” Tony says with a grin. “Guess what? We won.”

“...we won?”

“We sure did.”

Beams of light filter in through the boarded windows as Tony makes his way into the living room, setting Peter prostrate on the couch. He can hear Mo asking Steve for a glass of water and a strawberry flavored Pop- Tart in the kitchen.

Tony musses Peter’s hair a bit, taking a better look at him now they weren’t still down in the dark basement. The kid is still pretty grey, lungs straining for each breath.

“I’m going to go get your medicine from the bathroom, okay bud?”

Peter gives a small nod. Tony leans over, kissing him on the forehead before he heads for the downstairs bathroom. He opens the medicine cabinet, grabbing one of Peter’s inhalers and also filling up the syringe,  just in case the kid needs an epinephrine shot.

He’s just exiting the bathroom when he hears Steve cry out with a strangled voice, “Tony?” from the direction of the living room.

Tony rushes in to see one of the creatures holding Peter in an arm, the other raised over the boy’s head. It has long, sharp claws, and its skin blends in almost perfectly with the wallpaper pattern behind it. To Tony’s right he sees Steve and Mo standing in the doorway of the kitchen, frozen in fear.

Tony turns back to get a better look at Peter. His son is completely limp-- eyes closed, face the color of ash. Tony can’t tell if he’s breathing, but he doesn’t think so.

Just then the creature lowers its wrist closer to Peter’s nose, secreting a greenish gas into the boy’s nostrils. Tony’s eyes shift to the creature’s arm, and he sees the marks from Steve’s hammer strikes. 

It’s the same one that tried to pull Peter into the chute, he realizes. He distantly wonders if that’s why it was left behind-- if it was considered too injured to be worth bringing home.

The creature steps back then, just a bit-- but enough to knock into one of the side tables. One of Mo’s water glasses topples, the liquid hitting the creature’s leg, causing it to immediately bubble over and bleed as  though the skin had been burnt.

Tony’s jaw drops as he takes in the sight. His head whips over to Mo, who is looking at him with wide eyes. 

Unbidden, Pepper’s words come to him:  _ Tell Tony to see. _

_ See what, Pep? See  _ what?!

Tony looks around frantically, before his eyes land on Steve’s prized bat-- the one that sent the game-winning homerun.

Tony looks back, eyes the dozen-plus water glasses sitting around the room.

He turns to Steve. “Swing away Steve.”

Steve, who had still been staring at the creature in terror, glances over at Tony, eyes full of confusion.

“Steve.  _ Swing away. _ ”

Steve gasps, body turning to grab the bat off its mount. His hands tighten around the handle and he starts forward at the creature, who makes some sort of hissing sound at him. He puts his weight on his right leg and swings, aiming for the two remaining glasses on the side table. 

He sends them flying in the direction of the creature, who cries out and drops Peter as its skin starts to violently sizzle. It stays upright however, engaging Steve who holds up the bat again. 

Steve slams the bat into the creature’s side, stepping back to aim at more glasses on the coffee table. The creature pulls back, clearly weakened by the liquid burns.

Tony races forward at the first opportunity, cradling Peter in his arms. The last thing he sees before running out of the living room is Steve slamming the bat into the creature’s head and it stumbling onto its knees.

“C’mon kiddo, breathe,” he begs Peter as he sprints through the kitchen and out the back door. 

“Petey!” Mo screams, right on her father’s heels. “Petey, wake up!”

But Peter’s head continues to limply bob back and forth, Tony trying to ignore how dead his son appears-- how dead he might in fact  _ be _ .

Tony lays Peter out on the lawn grass, pulling out the syringe from his pocket and wasting no time as he stabs it right into his son’s thigh.

He flings the syringe away before leaning over and blowing two breaths into Peter’s lungs, then puts his fingers on the teen’s neck.

There’s still a heartbeat, but it’s faint and slowing.

“It’s dead,” Tony hears Steve say as he runs out from the house before coming to a stop right at Peter’s feet. “Tony?”

“C’mon kiddo,” Tony says, taking Peter’s head into his lap, looking for any sign his baby boy is breathing again.

“His lungs were closed-- no poison got in. His lungs were closed,” he chants under his breath.

Steve leans over to check Peter’s pulse.

“Don’t touch him,” Tony orders, before continuing to chant.

“T-tony,” Steve whispers, before straightening and wrapping his arms around the back of his head. He starts to sob, looking away from Peter and out into the crops.

Mo reaches out for Peter’s hand. “Petey?”

“Don’t touch him, Mo,” Tony says again, desperate as he looks down at his son. 

_ It can’t all be for nothing,  _ he thinks. Because he finally  _ saw _ , like Pepper told him to. He told Steve to  _ swing away _ , and Steve did.

It all had to be for  _ something _ \-- if not to save Peter, then  _ why? _

_ God, please-- please save him. Please. _

“C’mon, Peter,” Tony begs, eyes overflowing with tears. He shuts them again, unable to bear the watery sight of his dying son. “Come back to me, kiddo. Please, Peter-- come back. Please, God-- give him back.”

“Dad?”

Tony opens his eyes to see Peter squinting up at him.

Every last bit of despair trapped within Tony releases at the sight of his son’s bewildered gaze. An incoherent sound of joy escapes from Tony’s lips.

_ Thank you, God-- thank you for saving him-- for saving our family. _

Tony feels Mo lean into his shoulder, Steve coming from behind and wrapping his arms around all three of them protectively.

“Did someone save me?” Peter asks, looking between all of them before his gaze settles back on Tony, who smiles softly.

“Yeah, kiddo. I think someone did.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments on my birthday would be such an amazing gift <3 <3 <3
> 
> Or feel free to say hello on [tumblr](https://blondsak.tumblr.com/)!


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